


Shut up and drive

by Purplefern



Series: Squip Fluff [5]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: Anxious Jeremy Heere, Before Halloween, Book References, Book driving scene but with musical squip, Driving, During Canon, Gen, Helpful Jeremy Heere's Squip, I'm Bad At Titles, Squip being the Squip, Titles DOES NOT imply shipping, does this count as fluff?, i love that that's a tag, idk what you want from me, it was just the only one I could think of, projecting my own hatred of driving onto Jeremy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28795806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplefern/pseuds/Purplefern
Summary: Jeremy's been invited to Jake's Halloween party. Cool! But the only acceptable way to get there is driving, and Jeremy's never even been in the driver's seat of a car before. It's up to the Squip to talk him through this.
Relationships: Jeremy Heere & Jeremy Heere's Squip
Series: Squip Fluff [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683082
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	Shut up and drive

**Author's Note:**

> I was just surprised no one had really written anything like this yet, so I took it upon myself.

“There’s never any need to turn the wheel dramatically. This isn’t some Bond movie,” critiqued the Squip at the end of a driving lecture, as Jeremy nervously sat behind the wheel of his dad’s car. He had to go to Jake’s party, and getting there any way other than driving would be incredibly lame. 

He licked at his lips as they suddenly dried, hesitantly putting his hands on the driver’s wheel, shuffling them around the circumference and floundering to hold it the right way. Where was he supposed to--?

“Hands at ten and two,” interrupted the Squip, inclining its head towards the wheel. 

“R-right,” he stammered, grabbing the wheel where the Squip instructed. He grabbed it a little tighter when he noticed his hands shaking. 

This was a terrible idea, he thought, tearing one hand away from the wheel and fumbling for the keys. He’d never driven a car before in his life, he’s never even sat on the  _ driver’s side _ before… 

The supercomputer latched onto that train of thought immediately, shutting it down with a stern, “Calm down, Jeremy. You have to drive to this party. It is the  _ only  _ acceptable way to get there.” 

“I know,” he resigned, still hesitating to turn the ignition, biting his lip and still going through second thoughts. The Squip seemed to sigh heavily. 

“Jeremy. It is fine. You are in no danger of an accident. Well, if you listen to me, anyway.”

“You sure?” he asked before he could think about it, still leaning over the ignition to the car. 

The computer, if it were possible, looked offended at the question. “I have a quantum processor capable of running thousands of possible scenarios simultaneously. Yes, I am sure.” All simulation of emotion falling away, the Squip returned to its criticizing default expression, explaining didactically, “So, both hands on the wheel. Only use one foot on the pedals to drive. If you use both feet at once you are liable to press the gas and the brake at the same time, which would not be optimale. And be  _ careful _ . Chances of an accident may be incredibly unlikely, but that’s no reason to push our chances.” 

Jeremy nodded along, feeling a little bit calmer with the explicit instructions, though his hands still clenched the wheel in a much tighter grip than necessary. Taking a breath, he turned the key, the car shuddering to life underneath him. He slowly exhaled, looking over at the Squip’s digital form in the passenger seat for approval. It nodded, and he lost a little bit more tension, his hands loosening around the wheel. For the first time he thought that maybe he could do this. 

“Of course you can, Jeremy, as long as I assist,” said the Squip, waving off his concerns. It then pointed to the gear shift, instructing, “Now, shift it into drive.”

“That’s the ‘D’, right?” clarified Jeremy, placing his sweating hand on the device. 

“Yes,” intoned the Squip humorlessly. 

The teen did as the computer said, silently thanking the universe that his dad’s car had automatic transmission. As soon as he shifted the gear, the car started to roll forwards, and Jeremy’s heart leapt into his throat while he made a startled squeak, his hands resuming their death grip on the wheel. 

“The  _ brake _ , Jeremy. I don’t exactly like the idea of being proven wrong on my quantum analysis tonight,” the Squip criticized camly. 

He slammed his foot on the brake, the car lurching to a halt and sliding him forwards in his seat. 

“Now, press the gas,  _ lightly _ ,” instructed the Squip, Jeremy doing as the computer bid. The car moved forwards again, down Jeremy’s rocky driveway. Jeremy pressed on the brake harshly again once he got to where the driveway met the road, the car throwing him forwards again. 

“Turn right,” continued Squip, and, biting his lip, the teen did. He was too stressed to even make a Google Maps joke. The car’s wheels hit asphalt, and they were on the road. Jeremy was driving. 

Despite the Squip’s constant instruction and information about other cars, red lights, and bumps in the road, Jeremy continued his death grip on the wheel, his back kept constantly tense. The tension only tripled when other cars came near him. He held his breath whenever a car passed him, envisioning the other driver suddenly changing their mind and ramming into his lane, and the fiery crash that would follow. Every black car was a cop ready to arrest him for driving without a license. And when there was a car behind him, he all-to-clearly could picture the person behind the wheel muttering about his terrible driving skills, secretly criticizing him. 

“Jeremy. Will you  _ relax? _ I have everything completely under control,” complained the Squip, arms crossed, though Jeremy didn’t dare look away from the road to see that (he could just kinda sense it, through whatever weird mind-link stuff he had with the super computer). “Honestly,” it huffed, “you’re so stressed that even  _ I  _ can practically feel it. I don't need your brain cramping me.” 

**_Sorry_ ** he thought, but he didn’t get any further, too busy focusing on the headlights of the car behind him from the rearview mirror, certain that they thought he was going too slowly, that they were cursing him out, they  _ hated  _ him...

The Squip blew out a long-suffering sigh. “Jeremy, they are not doing anything of the sort.”

**_How do you know?_ **

“Supercomputer, remember? Most humans are not much different from yourself. They are just in their car, going where they need to go. They are not giving a passing thought about you,” 

Jeremy suddenly laughed, throwing the computer for a moment. 

**_‘Passing’ thought, heh_ ** thought Jeremy. 

“Really, Jeremy?” scolded the supercomputer, giving its host a scathing look at his current dorkiness. “It was not funny.” But for the first time since getting on the road, its host’s back muscles relaxed even a little, and the computer noticed that just for the second his focus was on something  _ other  _ than the car behind him. Interesting. 

**_You’re a computer. ‘s not like you have a sense of humor to judge me_ ** he retorted with a smug grin. 

“You don’t need a sense of humor to know that that pun was not funny. It was hardly even wordplay,” it retorted back, observing as Jeremy’s hands relaxed around the wheel the longer their banter went on. “Turn right at the next intersection,” it instructed swiftly as the next turn came up, abandoning the banter. 

“Thanks, Google,” he said aloud, still grinning. 

The Squip did not retort to that, though the computer noticed its host had finally chilled for the first time since stepping into the vehicle. 

When Jeremy turned onto a bigger street, though, two lanes of cars opening on either side of him and more traffic than he had had to deal with thus far, his tension returned. His foot not occupied with the peddle tapped nervously. 

The Squip watched the fidget distastefully, commanding sharply, “Jeremy, stop that.” Normally it would emphasize the command with some spinal stimulation to cease the nervous tick, but it wouldn’t be safe to do that while Jeremy was driving. His leg stilled, but only for a moment before the lanes on either side filled with cars, and a car was following behind him as well. 

There were  _ so many  _ cars, he worried to himself, flinching as a car passed him. He was gonna get in an accident, he was gonna get in an accident, he was  _ so  _ gonna get into an accident,  _ was he any closer to Jake’s house yet?  _

  
  


“In answer to your question,” the Squip suddenly spoke up, apparently done with its pout, “you are more than halfway there. In three miles you will have reached your destination.” 

“Mmm,” he hummed in reply, not feeling up to forming actual words. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the Squip still had its form sitting in the passenger side. He vaguely wondered why sometimes it chose to show a form and other times not. There didn’t seem to be too much logic to it. “Can you...talk to me?” he suddenly asked. He shrunk, bringing his elbows in towards his chest and hanging onto the wheel when he could practically  _ feel  _ the Squip’s incredulity. But he needed something to focus on other than the terror of driving, and he couldn’t bring himself to start messing with the radio. At least if the Squip was talking he was thinking about something else. Even though it was unnecessary, he said aloud to the Squip, “I need a distraction.”

“I am not designed to make idle chatter, Jeremy,” explained the Squip dryly. 

“Just, say  _ something _ , ok?” he snapped as a car in front of him suddenly stopped, forcing him to step on the brakes quickly. 

The Squip, contrary to its nature, searched for something to say to the youth. A command was a command, and it had noticed that conversation seemed to improve his attitude towards driving. “Did you know that most of the stars you see in the sky are actually satellites?” it offered, knowing that some trivia could keep Jeremy’s mind occupied for the duration of the trip. 

“Really?” he replied, his mind latching onto the tidbit like life preserver amid a sea of anxiety, “That’s cool. But also kind of scary.” 

“How is anything about that scary?” wondered the computer, scanning back over its words to find any trace of threatening information and coming back blank. 

“Well, like, you’d think they’re stars, something natural and real,” he explained, opening one hand flat on the wheel and gesturing with it,“but then it’s actually technology lying to you, and they aren’t real at all.” 

“Why would it matter if a light in the sky is caused by a ball of combusting gas or a man-made artifact powered by electricity? Either way it has no impact on you.”

Jeremy shrugged, “It just does. Like, people make wishes on stars and use them to navigate, a-and stuff, but then it’s actually some hunk of metal, you know?” His death grip on the wheel had finally lessened, and he was absently tapping at it as he talked instead.

The Squip couldn’t say it  _ did  _ know, but whether or not it comprehended Jeremy’s remark was ultimately irrelevant. The conversation had certainly done its job of getting Jeremy through the drive. He finally leaned back against the seat comfortably instead of sitting ramrod straight. “Turn left here,” it replied instead, and Jeremy did so smoothly. Maybe he could actually look chill while driving, after all. Now he actually looked like he belonged behind a steering wheel, instead of like a terrified child. It would certainly do better for his image. 

And not a moment too soon, as Jeremy gradually slowed the car to a stop outside of Jake’s house; the driveway and road in front of it packed with cars. 

  
Heaving a relieved breath, Jeremy finally ripped his hands away from the wheel, flexing his slightly sore fingers. Turning off the car, he pocketed the keys and got out, slamming the door--  _ With authority, you need to show that you  _ **_own_ ** _ that car, be assertive  _ \-- and swaggering, Squip-instructed, up to the entrance. Knocking at the door, the driving tension was finally left behind. Hey, he had driven all the way up here, a hellish 15 minute trip of agony. After that, how difficult could a party be? 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, Jeremy, if only you knew. 
> 
> Yeah, I didn't really have a plan for this story? Jeremy and the Squip just kept wanting to talk so I went with it. It was interesting twisting the satellite thing from the book to fit a musical perspective, especially since that moment is one that people usually use to point out how soft Book|Squip is. But I ultimately like how it turned out, I don't know. 
> 
> Thanks for reading my thing, leave Kudos, comments, etc, hope you liked it. :)


End file.
